Unexpected
by Kaylle
Summary: Things are so much stranger in this place, this New York. A series of vignettes based on Disney's Enchanted.
1. Chapter 1

Unexpected  
By Kaylle  
Rated T (to be safe)  
Updated 12/6/2007

A series of short vignettes based on Disney's _Enchanted_. I'm surprised to find myself writing this, and I feel a little silly, but such is life. Obviously I don't own _Enchanted_, but I hope Disney doesn't mind me playing a little.

UNEXPECTED  
By Kaylle

Things are so much stranger in this place, this _New York_. So much stranger, harsher, sharper angles and sharper words than she is used to. There is no gloss in this place, none of the effortless joy of the world she knows.

And yet, there are things here that she's never known there. And they aren't all bad.

Like _anger_. It's a new sensation, heat and frustration and fury, so much rougher and rawer and more powerful than anything she's ever felt before. She's so startled by the feeling, and then fascinated by it, that she cant _stay_ angry with him. Joy bubbles inside her, and she reaches out to him, her fingers landing on his chest. And anger and joy instantly become something else, something she has no word for at all, something warm and aching and entirely new. It hangs shivering in the air between them, and her fingers move against his chest, trying to learn what he feels like, trying to make sense of any of it. And then she looks up at him, and she's so certain that he's going to kiss her-- so caught in this spell between them, the sudden flush beneath her skin and the weird foreign tension in her body-- that the sudden loss of contact between them is a shock. She stumbles back, sinks awkwardly to the chair, wraps her arms protectively around her body.

Of course she can't kiss him. Edward is coming for her, no matter what Robert says, and Robert is going to marry Nancy. But in this moment, remembering Robert's skin so warm under her fingers and his face close to hers, in this moment she can't _quite_ recall what Edward looks like. It has only been a day, after all. Perhaps that isn't quite enough time to commit his face to memory. Robert seems to think it isn't enough time to know someone before getting married.

And her feelings for Edward are softer than what she's feeling now, sweeter, simpler. Perhaps they simply cannot withstand the onslaught of thoughts like this, of anger and whatever it was there between her and Robert. She still has no word for it, but it was powerful and beautiful and terrifying and she can feel it still, aching inside her, and she wishes she understood.

Of _course_ she can't kiss him. It's wrong to kiss a man when you're engaged to another one. It's wrong to _want_ to kiss a man when you're engaged to another one. The entire concept is foreign to her. She doesn't quite have a word for it, but she suspects Robert would, and she suspects it's an ugly word.

"Oh, my," she whispers, because there are so many things in this _New York _that are frightening and so many words she doesn't know. And yet... She shivers with the memory and wonders if she'll ever feel that way again, and she wonders if she'll miss New York when she goes home.


	2. Chapter 2

(I named Robert's ex-wife Caroline. I had to name her _something_. Does she have an official name anywhere?)

-

It's strange now, when he looks back, that he and Nancy stayed together for as long as they did. In the beginning he'd been a single father, struggling to make sense of Caroline's desertion, to make sense of his new life and the infant child he found entrusted to him. Morgan had been only a few months old. Who knew raising a baby alone was so much more difficult when you were alone? The first six months had been terrible. Looking back, the memory is only a blur. Sleepless nights and endless days at the firm, punctuated by moments of clarity and a joy so fierce it took his breath away-- when Morgan smiled at him, learned the word _Dada_, took her first steps. Suddenly he was a daddy, in a way he hadn't been before Caroline left; suddenly he was all Morgan had. His performance at work suffered and his social life evaporated, because Morgan had no one to depend upon but him.

And then there was Nancy, a friend of a friend, and he let her draw him out of his exile and back into the world. She was sanity and adult contact in a world populated by stuffed animals and cartoon characters, and he latched on to her, desperate for any kind of companionship. Nancy was smart and pretty and funny, and if she didn't quite take to Morgan the way he'd hoped, well, perhaps that was to be expected. They'd only been dating for a short while. Maybe it was just too much, so early in the relationship, to expect her to play surrogate mother as well as newfound girlfriend. She was never cruel to Morgan, or even insensitive. Perhaps that was enough.

And if he wasn't exactly… well, _passionate_ about her, maybe that was all right as well. He'd been passionately in love with Caroline, in the beginning, and look where that had gotten him. He _liked_ Nancy, he respected her, and they were good together. Perhaps that was enough.

He shied away from romantic gestures—sending flowers, going out dancing, declarations of love. Caroline had demanded those things, and he'd been happy to oblige her, but he knew now that they were a fantasy, and his relationship with Nancy was grounded in reality. He focused on getting to know her: how she saw the world, what she was good at and how he could help her, what she loved, what loves they shared.

And after five years, it seemed only logical that they should get married. She was practically the only mother Morgan had ever known, if a distant one. They were comfortable together. He knew her, and she knew him, and they knew what they were getting into.

Had it taken meeting Giselle to make him realize how ridiculous that sounded? That_comfortable_ wasn't enough, not nearly, and that romance and passion were far more important than he wanted to admit. He understands now that Caroline's departure scarred him, that remembered pain made it difficult for him to care for anyone except Morgan. Difficult to believe that love could be different, could exist without ending. So he'd held himself a little apart from Nancy, a little removed, kept a little space around his heart.

He isn't sure why she was willing to settle for that, when he was too afraid to love her in the way she wanted. No wonder she'd been drawn to Edward, dramatic Edward who made romantic gestures without thought and was utterly sincere. After five years of reasoned, methodical, careful interaction, throwing caution to the wind and eloping must have been exhilarating.

But he thinks of Giselle, of the ring he put on her finger only a few weeks after the ball, and smiles a little. Perhaps he knows something of throwing caution to the wind and making grand romantic gestures after all.


	3. Chapter 3

(Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read and review! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and you don't think I'm too silly for writing _Enchanted _fanfic g . )

-

He lowers himself to the bed and draws a deep breath, stunned by the force of the emotion beating in his blood. A second longer and he'd have kissed her. What would make him _do_ such a thing?

He pulls his robe closed, lays his hand where hers had been as if to smooth away the memory. It doesn't work. He can still feel her gentle fingertips there, curious, tentative, and his mind spins with the sensation.

She can rouse him to such extremes so easily. Earlier today it was anger and frustration, but apparently she can move him to desire as well. He never expected that. When did she stop being a crazy girl who talked to animals and become a charming, beautiful woman?

He was surprised by how much he enjoyed her company earlier. Walking in the park, or sitting at dinner, and just talking to her. She has such a unique outlook on life. He can almost believe she stepped out of the fairy tale she's described (and that scares him, really, when he stops to think about it). She's so unashamedly awed by everything around her, and so unafraid to show emotion.

He was surprised, too, to find himself telling her about Caroline, but she was such a sympathetic listener that he scarcely realized he was confiding in her. When he was finished, he wondered what she thought of him. She places such value on love, and tonight he admitted that he couldn't hold his marriage together. But she isn't judgmental at all; he supposes she would be likely to tell him he simply hadn't met his true love yet. Well, perhaps he hadn't. Caroline certainly wasn't her.

The ache in his body pipes up that perhaps he _has_ found her, perhaps she is even now sleeping on his couch in a borrowed pair of his pajamas. He frowns, and firmly reminds his libido that lust isn't love, and certainly not _true_ love. One almost, aborted kiss does not true love make.

But for a moment he allows his imagination to play with the idea, allows himself to consider what might have happened if he'd leaned forward just a little farther and kissed her. Her eyes had been wide and wondering, almost afraid, as if she didn't quite understand what she was feeling. But there had been an expectation in them as well, an invitation. She _wanted_ to understand. He has a sneaking suspicion she's never kissed Edward (although he does not want to think of Edward). Didn't she, on that first night, say she had to get home to be married so she and Edward could share true love's kiss? (And what kind of culture _is_ this, if they never kiss before they're married?)

But he does not want to think of that, either. He wants to think of Giselle. How her eyes would have fluttered shut as his mouth closed on hers. How her hands would have spread over his chest and across his shoulders, slipped under the lapels of his robe. How her body would have shifted closer to his and he'd have wrapped his arms around her, his fingers skimming the narrow ribbon of bare skin at her waist where her pajama shirt has pulled up. How she would have tasted under his lips, sweet and soft and immeasurably compelling. He can feel himself reacting to the mental picture, his heart beating faster and his blood warming beneath the skin. It would have been an amazing kiss. Perhaps the best kiss he'd ever known. But it would have been a betrayal, for both of them, and neither Nancy nor Edward has done anything to deserve that.

But he does not want to think of Edward, because he does not want to consider why he is so convinced Edward is not coming. Why he was so quick he was to assume the worst of Edward, to dismiss Giselle's relationship with him as hopeless. Why he is so passionately opposed to Giselle waiting for him. Somehow he thinks the reason might be something else he does not want to think of.

So he draws another deep breath, his fingers still warm on his chest where Giselle's had been. He tries to think of Nancy, and listens to his heart pounding in the darkness.

-

(Yes, I know there are people who believe in not kissing before getting married, but I don't imagine Robert meets many of them as a divorce attorney in New York City.)


	4. Chapter 4

[I'm trying this new thing where I type up the fragments of stories I have in various notebooks, give them a very brief polish, and post them without thinking too hard about whether or not they're actually any good. They've been languishing for years, I'm just posting them. So here you go; I hope you enjoy. For the record, the note on this one said I wrote it in December, 2007.]

* * *

When Morgan makes wishes, they are always the same. She wishes on birthday candles, shooting stars, eyelashes, dandelions. She wishes for a mother.

She has only the vaguest memory of her real mother, although there is a single photograph of her in her father's bedroom. Morgan takes it out occasionally and studies it. Daddy says she was very unhappy, so she left. In Morgan's mind this makes her rather a poor mother, for although she doesn't know much on the subject she knows that good Mommies don't leave their babies behind. Morgan herself is a much better Mommy to her bears and dolls. She is careful to kiss them goodnight and assure them she loves them. She has learned to be a mother by example- what not to do.

She has, in fact, built up quite a list of things good mothers should do, carefully watching the other little girls in her class and making note of their interactions with their mothers. A mother should be kind, and protective, and love you even when you misbehave. A mother teaches you how to read, to spell, to make cookies; a mother helps you with your schoolwork and hangs your pictures on the refrigerator. Her father does all of those things, but Morgan also knows there are things mothers and daughters do that fathers and daughters don't. Mothers and daughters go out together, go shopping for girl clothes, buy matching pajamas. Mothers give their daughters advice on clothes and hair and makeup and boys. At least, mothers do those things on television, and she thinks it must be at least partly right.

She has little hope or even desire that her real mother will ever return. Morgan isn't sure she could forgive her, anyway. (Or, perhaps, she'd forgive her far too easily, so eager to be loved and held and wanted, and she does not want that either.) This means that the only way to get a new mother is for Daddy to marry one.

Except Daddy has been dating Nancy for as long as Morgan can remember. Nancy has always been kind to her, and thus it seems somehow ungrateful to ask for something more than that. But Nancy is not the mother Morgan has in mind. Nancy is too hip, too stylish to be truly maternal; she tries too hard to impress Morgan, or to befriend her, to ever truly fit into a motherly role. Morgan tries to imagine bringing her pictures home from school for Nancy. Nancy would probably stare at them, bewildered, with no idea what to do with them.

Morgan's small consolation is that Daddy doesn't really seem to be in love with Nancty. At least, he doesn't act like the people on television when they fall in love. He doesn't buy Nancy flowers, or chocolates, or sentimental jewelry. Morgan has never heard Daddy _tell _Nancy that he loves her, although she realizes he might very well say it when Morgan isn't around. But she puts these facts together in her mind and builds a picture where Daddy isn't really in love with Nancy and there is still hope that he will meet and marry someone else.

Until one night Daddy picks her up, presents her with a book, and announces that he's going to ask Nancy to marry him. Morgan is shocked and dismayed, feeling her imagined future mother slipping away. If Daddy marries Nancy, there will never be another Mommy.

And then Giselle drops into their lives- literally- and Morgan is galvanized with hope. Giselle is unlike anyone Morgan has ever known. There is no artifice in her, no need to impress. She is utterly sincere. And although she seems crazy sometimes- and brings that craziness into their lives- she is warm and caring and openly affectionate. She is like a cross between a mother and a big sister, someone who can provide an older female perspective and yet hasn't quite got all the answers yet. She and Morgan can learn from each other. That's a new experience for Morgan, being able to teach someone else. She could show Giselle how to hang the pictures on the refrigerator- she could explain to Giselle what a refrigerator _is_- and Giselle would proudly display her artwork, would point it out to Daddy when he gets home from work.

So Morgan opens her bedroom window and stares into the glittering lights of the city, knowing that somewhere out there her father is at the ball with Nancy. She wonders if Giselle has arrived yet. The babysitter calls for her to come back into the living room, but Morgan ignores her. She turns her eyes to the sky, waiting for another shooting star, wishing as hard as she can and hoping it will be enough.


End file.
